Happy Returns
by pseudonymitous
Summary: Pre-Season 5. Annie freaked out, dumped Auggie, and ran away to Jerusalem. After a month of recovery in the house of Eyal Lavin, she's considering a comeback... but it won't be so easy.
1. Chapter 1

"I want to come back on my own terms," Annie murmured, taking a sleepy sip of coffee. "If I come back at all."

"Don't talk like that," Eyal said calmly, his head in the fridge. "Did you eat all the strawberries?"

"Wasn't me," Annie insisted. She stirred the honey pot on the table and added another dollop to her cup.

"Well, if the honey goes missing, I'll know who to blame."

Annie turned her face toward the sun that was streaming through the kitchen window. Eyal pulled a cutting board from the cupboard and began slicing berries.

"Trust me when I say this. Once you're in, you're in. When you're out, you're out. Every day, the CIA is less and less sympathetic to 'your terms.'"

Annie had been with Eyal for almost a month. She'd panicked on her way home to DC; left Auggie a teary voicemail and pitched her phone into the Atlantic. Eyal had given her information in case of an emergency, and she'd tracked him down with the determination of a bloodhound and half as much grace.

To his credit, Eyal hadn't thumbed his nose at the desperate American in the pouring rain. He'd simply opened his door and allowed her to stay. Here, she was neither Annie Walker nor Jessica Mathews. Only _Neshama, _when Eyal chose to address her directly. The last month had allowed Annie to shed a certain skin, unburden a certain lie while also moving forward. She wasn't undercover, but she wasn't going backward. Every time she closed her eyes, she pictured Auggie. The look on his face when he heard that voicemail. The amount of pain she must've caused him... It was probably unforgivable. She was probably unforgivable. That's why she was still here at Eyal's house. Eyal didn't try to evaluate her level of forgivability.

He set a plate of sliced strawberries on the table in front of her, brushing her hand as he did so. Annie had wondered several times if this was meant to be something romantic, and every time she'd come up short. She and Auggie were broken up- if that voicemail hadn't done it, nothing would. But this didn't feel like a romance, either.

They'd never had sex. It wasn't the definition of romance, but it was something. There were two beds in the apartment, and Annie took the guest one. But the first night, she'd been so beside herself that she'd crawled into Eyal's. She'd just needed someone, and he'd been someone. They never spoke about it afterward. But there was an occasional kiss on the cheek, an occasional stolen glance, an occasional brush on the back of the hand, that made Annie wonder if this something deserved a name.

If it did, it was like the CIA, in that she wasn't quite ready to face it.


	2. Chapter 2

The call came at 3 in the morning Auggie's time. He was still up.

Auggie hadn't slept right since Helen Hanson died... again. He had a few nights of reprieve when he thought Annie was on her way back to him, but that cheap voicemail was the cop-out of a phantom with a disconnected number. He'd bounced back in a rough way, a ladies-love-a-blind-guy way. A way he wasn't proud of.

The blonde (he assumed she was blonde, by the fresh peroxide smell and frayed ends of her hair) stirred in his bed, so he crept into the kitchen to answer. The number was unidentified, didn't match anyone in his contacts list, and Auggie didn't love that. He'd disposed of his landline after the Liza Hearn incident, but his cell was good at keeping him on top of things. Now it verbalized an area code he didn't recognize.

"Anderson."

"Auggie. It's Eyal Lavin. Listen, I think I have something that belongs to you."

Auggie was surprised to hear from Eyal, but when wasn't he? He took a moment to question whether or not he wanted to get involved with this before answering.

"What is it?"

"A certain blonde American is sitting on my balcony."

Auggie's breath caught. How did he know this was coming?

"Figures," Auggie said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "You know, it's not nice to refer to women as objects. And that particular woman does not 'belong to me.'"

Eyal gave a signature chuckle. "You misunderstand. I have an umbrella of yours. You lent it to me in Amsterdam; I must've packed it accidentally. It's been sitting by my front door for ages now."

"What was that about Annie?"

"Oh, I was just stating a fact. She's sitting on my balcony. Do with it what you will."

"You woke me in the middle of the night to tell me you've had my umbrella for two years?"

"Is it the middle of the night there? My apologies."

"Cut the crap, Eyal."

Eyal sighed, the humor draining from his voice. "She's been in Jerusalem for a month now."

"Congratulations to the happy couple."

"No need for this," Eyal said sternly. "She was in a bad way and I welcomed her as a friend. She needed to be cared for."

"I'm glad she found someone who could take care of her," Auggie spat. "I'm sorry the people she had weren't good enough."

"Auggie... she still loves you."

Auggie froze, his heart still in his chest. "She said that?"

"She needs to come home. She's ready to come home. I just think she's lost the way back."


	3. Chapter 3

Auggie was demolishing a punching bag when a familiar voice interrupted.

"Really going to town on that thing, aren't you?"

"Joan. What brings you to our lowly workout facility?"

"Nine months of pregnancy and six weeks of my mother's home cooking," Joan said, coming a few steps closer. "I'm signed up for something called 'piloxing,' whatever that is."

"I believe that would be a mixture of pilates and boxing."

"Sounds awful."

"I'm a fan."

"You've dated too many models," Joan retorted.

"I have a rebuttal, but don't wanna break rank."

"Smart boy," Joan's smirk was audible. She took a few steps toward the exit.

"Hey, Joan, wait." Auggie was surprised by the urgency in his own voice.

The footsteps stopped. "What is it?"

"Would you have a minute sometime to talk?"

"For you, Auggie, I have two."

...

Annie's thighs were killing her, but her feet didn't slow. Over the last month, she'd gone from leisurely pacing, to jogging, to full-on running. It was too hot during the day, but she'd fallen in love with Jerusalem at night. Eyal had given her a map, highlighting the routes that were safe and the ones to avoid. This was a controversial city, and Annie could be a controversial woman.

Night running was different. The desert heat gave way to cool, clear air. Annie let it fill her lungs and burn her nostrils, breathing in all the smells and sounds of the city after dark. The metaphorical dark had been incredibly difficult, but the literal dark wasn't so frightening after all. She thought, involuntarily of Auggie. Wondered if he'd ever be up for a night run in DC. Pictured him making some crack about his sight, laughed to herself, and broke into a million pieces all over again. God, her thighs hurt. She should've stretched more.

...

Joan met Auggie at the tavern after work.

"Thanks for coming," he said.

"Thanks for giving me an excuse to drink," Joan joked. She'd lightened up considerably since McKenzie was born, managing to balance her work stress and life stress with a healthy sense of humor. After the year she and Arthur had endured, she deserved to have all the drinks.

"Eyal Lavin called me last night," Auggie said. He just blurted it out, cutting right to the quick of the issue that had been sitting in his stomach like hot lead for the past 20 hours.

"And what did Eyal want?" Joan's tone was laced with her signature edge.

"He was calling me off the books... to tell me he's got Annie."


End file.
